


Late Night

by mols



Series: Literal Oneshots [13]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Crossroads related, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Senses, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-23 22:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17692670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mols/pseuds/mols
Summary: It's late night and Dick gives in to an old feeling.





	Late Night

It was dark outside, and in Dick's self-made office, technically a basement, and a bedroom as well. The only light coming from a shiny full moon through a tall window on the other side of the room.

There were only shades of dark at Dick's reach.

The night was sure to end at some point, but intimately - and shamefully - Dick wished it would take its time, letting him breathe, breath for just a second, for just a second that he could live as if nothing or none would be destroyed in the next hours, under his watch, beyond his reach.

If someone told him about this, he could bet - if he were a man who bet - he wouldn't believe it. Like under influence, the environment surrounding him felt too hot, sweat dripped from his forehead ridges in a very slow and suddenly fast, intermittent motion. His eyes were closed, the back of his head rested on the top part of the chair, his hands were as grease as the dark hair that flew between his knuckles.

Dick wasn't sure if it were a dream or not. He didn't know if he wanted to believe, because it felt like how hell should feel like, for those who loved pain and pain gave them pleasure. It was hot as hell, it seemed to be designed to melt everything as things should if hell worked like any other place on Earth. Less like heaven in the paintings, more like heaven on Earth - like a paradise without debts.

Lew's mouth was as subtle as Dick's own pants and prayers that everything would be alright, that things could be fixed in any way he could find. He dared to look further down, his thumbs sliding back down Lew's temples, those dark eyes darting into his, blue ones. An inconsequential flicker of Lewis Nixon's tongue and Dick jerked forward, his toes spreading forward and then curling, as well as his eyes.

A simple groan, like an ascendent passage, an opera rehearsal and then the chaos, the passion. His calloused hands tightening around the damp locks, like holding to dear life in a rollercoaster. His whole body curling and uncurling, curling and uncurling, curling and...A last sigh, trying to find foot to step on reality, on firm ground.

He sighed again, letting his body fold forward, his arms hugging Lew's nasty nest with stick sweat. He sighed again.

Thank you, God. I'm sorry.


End file.
